Anger Management
by NairobiWonders
Summary: Blatant, contrived, fluffy joanlock - apparently it's my specialty. I keep trying to be more angsty but can't quite get away from the banter. Thanks for reading. I appreciate all the previous kind comments.


"SHERLOCK!" She was livid. Watson slammed the door to her bedroom and was coming down in his direction. He stood at the first floor landing and considered discreetly making a run for the door. Holmes had faced serial killers, murderers and even Moriarty herself, but angry Watson was another thing altogether.

"Though she be but little...," he mumbled to himself as she came barreling down the stairs.

She charged at him. "How dare you?" Sherlock maintained his composure, gave her a quizzical grimace, pivoted away from her, and whispered "... fierce" to himself as he attempted to walk away.

Watson grabbed at his shoulder to stop him, startling him. She commonly used words not actions to get his attention. Sherlock realized he was going to have to face her and have this conversation.

"What is it Watson?" he said in his most innocent and calm voice.

She radiated anger. "You know perfectly well what it is! We had this conversation. I told you this was my problem and to not interfere. But you, you do whatever you want don't you! I just got a call telling me my car is ready!"

"Are we talking about the brakes for your vehicle? Because if this is the problem, don't you think you are being a touch dramatic?" He finished clicking the last syllable of his sentence, nodded at her and waited childlike expecting her to see how silly she was being.

Her eyes burned into his as she stepped closer. "I told you, the car is mine. I was not using the car because of the brakes and that I would have them fixed when I could afford to do so. This had nothing to do with you. You were not to help." She enunciated every word carefully as if that would help him understand his error.

For his part he stopped listening to her as she stepped closer to him and instead got lost in the levels of intensity behind her words and the fire in her dark eyes.

"Sherlock! Are you even listening to me!"

Startled, he raised his voice and answered. "Watson you are being foolish. I had the funds to fix the brakes and I did so. We use that car for business purposes. It is part of our business."

"No!" Watson tried to calm herself down a bit. "That car is mine. It is the last little bit of me I have here. I control when and if I get new brakes. I am not Ms. Hudson. I will not be kept."

"Oh my god!" Sherlock scrunched his face and brought his hand up to it as if to wipe away his frustration. "That is utterly ridiculous! I was trying to help you, no, help us."

"No. You were being an overbearing, condescending idiot who thinks because you are the man you can control everything around you!" She was in his face yelling at him and he angrily returned each verbal blow.

"You are completely overreacting! The fact is, it is done. Hmmm? I took care of it." He tried walking past her.

"No. This is not over!" She stood in front of him and would not let him walk away. "I am paying back every cent you put into that car, do you understand."

His frustration level rose even more and now he got in her face. "Why don't you let anyone help you! You are forever assisting me and yet won't accept the smallest assistance from me."

"This wasn't help, it was rescue! I don't need to be rescued by you."

That was the last straw. Sherlock exploded. "I will rescue you any time I deem it necessary. I love you, you stupid woman and I want to keep you safe!" He yelled, his face menacingly close to hers. His rage was quickly shifting into something else.

In spite of herself, Watson felt it also and grabbed at his T-shirt with both hands, her grip strong as she pulled him even closer towards her, "You are such an arrogant ass!"

And with that anger combusted into full blown lust. They pulled hard into each other without pause or fleeting thought. The kiss was open and full, fueled by desire and the remnants of rage.

"This isn't over," she said into his mouth before she crushed his lips to hers.

"God, I hope your right," he responded as his hand grabbed at her back and pressed her tightly to him while his other hand dove into her hair and cupped the back of her head. She held his neck and back with equal firmness. They teetered towards the wall for support, pressed against each other so closely that when the phone in Joan's pocket vibrated, they both felt it. Joan reached into her pocket as Sherlock continued devouring her, his hot breath at her ear whispering "don't answer, please don't answer..."

"It's my ... mom, I ... have to ..." she turned and caressed his lips with hers one more time before entreating him to stop.

His hands were enmeshed in her hair, his mouth open and caressing her neck, he murmured, "I don't think I could stop even if Moriarty was behind me with a pick axe." But he pulled back and looked into Joan's eyes knowing he had to regain control. Joan gently smiled and her hand came to his chest as she tried to slow her breathing before she answered her phone. He placed his forehead on her shoulder, hands on her hips, his breath still jagged, and listened.

"Hi mom ... Oh my gosh I'd forgotten. ... Ten minutes? ... Okay I'll be waiting."

Sherlock murmured into her shoulder "No, no, no - please Joan..."

Joan hung up with one hand while she stroked the back of his neck with the other whispering, "I'm sorry. She's coming here to go to lunch... I'd forgotten... "

His hands caressed her hips, her back. Sherlock picked up his head, stared intensely into her eyes, his breath still jagged, he pulled her close to him, and mouthed the word "please." Joan leaned in and whispered in his ear as her eyes closed and her body weakened at his touch. Her phone reappeared as she once again tried to steady herself.

"Mom, it's me. Listen ... Sherlock just reminded me of something we have to finish right away. Do you think we could meet you at the restaurant in about half an hour or so. There are some lovely ... shops by the ... uh ..." Sherlock vigorously reignited his passionate exploration of her body. Watson suffered a mental outage. Finishing her sentence took all her strength. "Yeah, uhm, okay. We'll see you in about half..." She hung up as Sherlock grabbed her bottom and lifted her. She wrapped her legs around him and kissed him as carried her into the other room...

They were late. Watson and Sherlock walked the last block towards the restaurant quickly, shoulder to shoulder, fingers lightly linked. Sherlock bent down and said something to Joan who beamed, they both looked slightly embarrassed and she shook her head yes. Mary Watson watched all this from the window of the restaurant. She smiled at seeing her daughter so happy. As Sherlock and Watson reached the door, they dropped hands, walked a little further apart and took on their more professional demeanor. They were shown to Mary's table. Sherlock greeted her warmly, "Mrs. Watson, pleasure to see you." Mary smiled as they sat down, "Why don't you call me mom, Sherlock." Joan looked at her, startled, and Sherlock all smiles said "alright then 'mum'." Mary Watson was not a detective but she could deduce with the best of them.


End file.
